


like a petal on a stream, a feather on the air

by radbees



Series: RoS AUs [3]
Category: Room of Swords (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Guardians of the Four Seasons, First Meetings, Short One Shot, Sort Of, Strangers, firem inspired this one, ghghj i guess i should probably tag this as strawbarrow but??, it's a sweet seasonal au babey, it's not really that specific yet its more like woah my coworker kinda cute :flushehd:, mostly based on my OC world 😔👊, stan a queen, the tags'll prob change later in the series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24018442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radbees/pseuds/radbees
Summary: Spring is late. Winter is not amused.(Until they meet. He's willing to forgive quite quick after that.)
Series: RoS AUs [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1474487
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	like a petal on a stream, a feather on the air

**Author's Note:**

> asmr I leave this fic at 1 chapter and make this a series of ficlets so I can label it finished and never touch it again 😳

Spring is late and Winter is not amused.

Oh, he'd understand, of course, if Don were just a few hours off the equinox. It's unlikely in the first place because Maria says he's lucky to have her as an equinox instead of Scout, who nags like no other. But yeah, you get caught admiring a snowflake for too long, whatever. Kodya isn't going to sit here and pretend like he hasn't been a couple minutes off while arguing with Tori over their differentiating aesthetics.

But Kodya has never once been two whole days past the equinox. He thinks he'd probably just resign if he even came close to being a day late, let alone two. Because now he just looks dumb, parading around snow that should be melting by now, holding an hourglass that doesn't feel right in his hands, anymore, and tired of being Winter.

He's twisting the hourglass in circles atop his palm, muttering some choice words in store for Don—because he's a thousand times more annoyed than angry—when the sound of rustling vines treks through the abandoned patches of fading snow. Something in the trees hums a tune—and it takes Kodya way too long to realize it's a bird. But it's...not one of his. It's brown and small and starts to sing a song so unfamiliar it might as well belong to—

Spring.

But it can't be. The birds of Don's spring don't sing—it's a well established fact. Kodya has never once heard a spring bird sing, until now, because Don's spring birds don't sing, but these are spring birds and they're singing, and that would only mean that—

"Am I late?"

By the stars.

"Sorry," says the voice emerging from the trees. "It's my—I'm new. I'm not," the voice stops and coughs awkwardly, "erm, very good at tracking down Winter. Which must be you, I'm assuming and oh my god I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting I didn't mean—"

And the voice goes on after that. Spilling apologies and excuses and mutterings about what nice weather they're having and Kodya simply cannot believe it.

Don had finally done it. He'd...moved on. Without telling them, nonetheless. Had he been getting that old? He’d Tailored a season. Had them take his place. A new Spring. A new season.

A dipshit who makes birds sing, is late to their own taking, and who talks a mile a minute.

Oh stars, Kodya's not ready.

Because Spring—he's calling them that, now—is not only two fucking days late, they also haven't even bothered to show their face, yet. They're making their way through the trees, still spilling small talk with every icicle that melts in their very presence. Stars, Kodya has never _met_ any season this incompetent. He likes mocking Tori, but she's _good_ at being Summer, and has _never_ been late to her taking, as far as he knows, and _why_ couldn't this guy just make an effort—

"—and I'm sorry but I'm here, now, and I think you have something for me, though I guess I should've come earlier. Sorry. Again."

And all the annoyance fades away quicker than the depleting ice in his presence.

He's the perfect personification of spring in every way. From the green, literal strawberry-shaped tufts of hair on his head to the light freckles splattered across his cheeks to the birds' sudden uprising in enthusiasm.

(Why was he angry, again?)

"Uh huh," Kodya says, smartly.

"Yeah...so, uhm. The—the hourglass?" Spring is wearing a yellow jumpsuit so hideous it's endearing. There are braids of tulips just sitting at the front of his head like they belong there and he's asking about some hourglass and Kodya isn't paying any attention.

The hourglass. The hourglass? The hourglass, holy shit.

The circus act in his hands fumbles and almost slips from his fingers, but years of training to avoid falling on his ass because of his own ice has taught Kodya a thing or two about balance and reflexes. It falls gracefully between his fingers, reflecting on the last little puddle of frozen water before it's spring.

Spring. Ah yes, Spring, the hourglass, right.

He coughs once, wishing the annoyance from earlier would come back so he could stop feeling so awkward. Spring stares in awe at it, though Kodya isn't sure why. It's just like any other hourglass. So maybe the sands shine like gold and maybe the glass is polished with water purer than any oasis, but it's just a normal hourglass.

Oh, okay, he guesses he can kind of see the appeal.

"You get used to it, after a while," he assures, raising it up to the light. "You know, after a couple thousand seasons of just. Holding it."

Spring still stares in awe. He picks up a finger like he wants to touch it, but lowers it like it'll sting. "I don't think I'll ever."

Kodya just laughs. "Well, you can start now." He holds it out. Spring takes it ever so hesitantly. "Congratulations. Have a nice—er, make a good spring, Spring."

"Gyrus," Spring responds, pausing his admiration of the hourglass to stare Kodya in the eye. He sees his in return, a shade of violet he's never seen before, so vivid compared to his own boring shade of blue. "My name's Gyrus. Thank you, Winter."

Kodya stops. He's never met anyone with a name like _that_ , but then again, he's never met anyone like Gyrus before at all. “Kodya,” he responds, because it’s not like he’s Winter anymore. “I’m off the job, so it’s just...Kodya.”

He doesn’t _want_ to leave, but it’s Gyrus’s first spring and he doesn’t want to interrupt him, either. Once he’s Spring, he’ll have a job to do, anyway. Winter won’t fade on its own. But in the summer….

Kodya walks away from the scene, and no, his heels are _not_ bouncing and _no_ he’s not excited to tell Neph literally everything about Spring and  _no_ he’s not going to brag to Tori about meeting him first. Who do you think he is?

(But maybe he’s excited for this upcoming spring and summer and autumn and maybe the winters won’t be so bad knowing he’ll see Spring first thing after and—

A vine adorned with poppies makes Kodya trip over himself. Instead of stepping on it, he nudges it out of the path’s way. It trickles forward, branching out and growing greener. He decides it’s his favorite spring right there and then.

**Author's Note:**

> mission failed, I say, pushing the this work has multiple chapters button. This might change actually but hjfjdk for now I'm too lazy to retag 😔
> 
> UPDATE!! I won 😌😌 The details of this AU are in the series notes, until the next one i guess


End file.
